Sudden Makes War (1942) Read online

  "I will wager a waltz that I can guess your thoughts," he said: "Is it a bet?"

  "Why, yes," she smiled.

  "You are wondering what I am doing out here in the wilds." The girl flushed. "You win," she said. "Now tell me."

  "I might answer with your own question," he parried. "Mister Trenton is my sole remaining relative."

  "Tough luck," he murmured, and noting the tiny crease between her level brows, "I mean, of course, being reduced to one. Now I had too many relations, and they all had ideas as to what 1 should do with my life, so I ran away."

  "But why choose such a--sordid place?"

  "Sordid? Well, I suppose to Eastern eyes it would seem so; a wit once said that Rainbow started with a saloon to supply the necessaries of life, and the store came later to provide the luxuries. But have you reflected that this same sordid settlement may one day become a great city, of which--as an early inhabitant--I may be regarded as a foundation stone?"

  "Now you are laughing at me," she protested.

  "No, I'm serious. `Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay, may stop a hole to keep the rats away.' At present, I'm only stopping the holes these foolish people make in one another. Which reminds me, you must see our cemetery--it is really pretty."

  "You would naturally be interested in it," she replied, paying him in his own coin of raillery.

  "Very little," he smiled. "Most of those within it required no aid from my profession to enter the other world. Ah, the fiddle has beaten the piano by a whole bar. Hello, Dan, you've met Miss Trenton?"

  The young rancher, by whose side they had stopped, looked into the girl's cool, unsmiling eyes, and said, "No."

  "Well, you have now," Malachi replied. "Ask her prettily and perhaps she'll dance with you."

  He left them, and Dan's gaze travelled over the slender, simply but perfectly-clad figure. "Will you?" he queried.

  She made a pretence of consulting her card. "I have no vacancy," she said icily. "Besides, only a skunk can dance with a skunk."

  Dan's mouth hardened; it had been an effort to ask, and the scornful reminder of his rudeness made him reckless. His eyes swept the room, noting that many Wagon-wheel riders were present.

  "You shore fetched along plenty partners," he flung back, and turned away.

  Garstone found her red and angry. "I don't like that young man," she told him.

  "That's something else we have in common," he said. "I hate the sight of him."

  He slid a possessive arm about her and steered into the throng. He was easily the best-dressed and most striking man in the company, and in spite of his bigness, light on his feet. Dan, watching with narrowed eyes, was conscious that they made a perfect pair. He was also painfully aware that everyone else seemed to be having a good time. As usual, on these occasions, males predominated, but this did not trouble the cowboys, for when ladies were lacking, they just grabbed another of their kind and jigged about, exchanging quaint expletives when a collision occurred. Blister and Slow--the late fracas now only a matter for mirth--were performing together, and a fragment of their conversation reached him. Blister was the gentleman.

  "Never seen you lookin' so peart, pardner," he complimented in dulcet tones. "You bin washin', or somethin'?"

  "Yeah, y'oughta try it," the "lady" instantly retorted.

  "you'd dance well too, if you knowed what to do with yore feet," Blister went on.

  "I'll shore know what to do with one if you trample on 'em any more," was the spirited response.

  At any other time this, and the sight of Tiny, carefully convoying the school-mistress--an austere-faced lady of uncertain age--and holding her bony form as though it were a piece of delicate china, would have moved him to merriment, but now...

  "Might be goin' to his own funeral," he muttered. "Hell, I'll get me a drink."

  Again he met with disappointment; he ran- into Maitland - and had to be introduced to the banker's wife--a colourless little woman with a tired face. Then he found himself dancing with the daughter.

  "When we came here, I didn't think I was going to like it," she confided, "but I am. The cowboys are so picturesque, and I'm longing to see a ranch."

  "You'd be disappointed," he told her. "Just a lot o' land, with some cows sprinkled around."

  The expected invitation not having materialized, she changed the subject. "Isn't Miss Trenton charming--quite the prettiest girl here, but perhaps you don't care for brunettes?"

  "If a fella likes a woman I reckon the colour of her hair don't matter," he fenced.

  "See, she's dancing with that sick-looking boy; she must be real kind."

  Miss Maitland was right, and wrong. Beth, anxious to humiliate the man who had again been rude to her, had hit upon a means; the honour he had solicited should be conferred upon the least important of his outfit. Yorky, feeling rather unsure of himself, despite his contempt for the "hayseeds," suddenly found the belle of the evening sitting by and looking kindly at him.

  "You must be the boy Doctor Malachi was telling me about," she said. "Like myself, you come from the East."

  "Yes'm, li'l ol' Noo York," he stammered, and added, "Allus sump'n doin' there."

  "Far too much doing," she smiled. "Unending noise and hustle, never any rest. I didn't like it."

  This was another blow to the boy's faith in "li'l ol' Noo York."

  "Jim don't neither," he admitted.

  "And who is Jim?"

  "He's my pal," Yorky said proudly. "I useter loaf aroun' the house all th' time, but Jim sez, 'Quit smokin', go a-ridin' an' git th' breath o' th' pines.' So I done it, an' I'm better a'ready."

  "The breath of the pines," she repeated. "Your friend must be something of a poet."

  "Not on yer life," the boy defended. "Nuttin' slushy 'bout Jim. Gee! y'oughter see him stripped--I mean, he's--"

  "A finely-made man," she helped him out. "You must tell me about him, and yourself, while we dance. You do dance, don't you?"

  "I c'n shake a leg," he said; and conscious that he had omitted something, "but I dasn't ask--"

  "Nonsense," she smiled. "I am going to enjoy it."

  And enjoy it she did, for her partner had the gamin'sinstinct for rhythm in his toes. Thus she learned how Old Man Dover had brought the boy to the ranch, and how he had hated it until a black-haired hero had come to change his outlook entirely. She was told about Flint, and what "fine guys" the boys were.

  "And Mister Dan, is he a fine guy too?" she asked. "Shore he is, white clean t'rough," Yorky said loyally.

  Miss Trenton stole a glance at the rancher as he passed, and failed to experience the exultation she had expected. When the music ceased, she dismissed her partner with a gracious word of thanks. Garstone stepped to her side.

  "Why on earth were you dancing with that tramp?" he asked.

  There was a warning flash in the dark eyes. "I believe it is a lady's privilege to select her partner."

  "Of course, but if you must take one of the opposite camp, surely it need not be the stable-boy."

  "The stable-boy behaved like a gentleman," she said coldly. "No, I am tired, and wish to rest a little. Miss Maitland is looking appealingly in this direction; I am sure she will oblige."

  "That's a good suggestion--we have to keep in with the fellow who holds the purse-strings," the big man laughed, but there was a frown on his face when he had turned away. Meanwhile, Yorky's sharp eyes had noticed something, and he disappeared to investigate. He returned during the next interval, and got Dan's attention.

  "Say, Boss," he whispered. "Five or six o' th' Wagon-wheel fellers, includin' Flint, has beaten it."

  "Gone to Sody's to tank up," Dan suggested.

  "They ain't--I've bin ter see. Their hosses is missin' too," the boy replied. "Man I asked said he hadn't seen Flint since soon after the second hop."---

  "That's certainly odd, Yorky; it ain't like cow-hands to run off from a dance--they don't get so many. Hello, Bill, wantin' me?"

  "Hunch is outside--Jim sent
him; sez there's trouble," the foreman said.

  "Round up the boys, an' we'll be goin'."

  In ten minutes they had left Rainbow behind and were riding for the Circle Dot. Silently, and with eyes alert, they pressed on through the still, dark night. When, at length, they reached the ranch, all seemed as usual. Then Sudden's voice challenged:

  "Who's there?"

  Dover replied, and a shaft of light appeared as the door opened; the puncher, gun in hand, stepped out.

  "Sorry to have busted in on yore fun, boys," he said. "The excitement's all over, I guess, but when I sent Hunch I didn't know what was afoot." Dan asked a question. "Rustlers. I downed a hors. They didn't get any steers."

  "Durn the luck, it would 'a' bin a good finish to have a run in with cow-thieves," Tiny grumbled. "Jim had the best of it after all."

  When Dover and the foreman followed Sudden into the living-room they got a shock, and had to be told the rest of the story. Dan's face fell when he saw the empty secret drawer.

  "So they got it," he said dejectedly.

  Sudden grinned, reached down the file and stripped off the bills until he came to the letter. "Like hell they did," he replied. "I had a feelin' someone might know o' that hidey-hole an' come for it, so I put it in the least likely place for anythin' o' value. Now we'll make shore; three of us know the contents o' that bit o' paper, so we'll--burn it."

  "Yo're right, Jim, an' I don't know how to thank you," Dan said. "It was a smart move."

  "Shucks," the puncher replied, and dropped the document in the fire.

  "Settles that," Burke remarked. "How did you get on to their plans, Jim?"

  "I didn't, but I got to wonderin' why Trenton was keen on an affair which would leave the Circle Dot wide open. Some o' his fellas could show theirselves, ride here, an' get back before the dance finished; no one could prove they hadn't been in town all the time."

  "Which is how it was planned," Dan said, and told of Yorky's discovery. "The raid on the cattle was a fake?"

  "Yeah. When Trenton learned I wasn't comin'--he had a list, yu know--they had to get me away from the ranch-house. Why, they even fired a gun in case I didn't hear 'em. Havin' played safe with the paper, I went along; yu see, there was just a chance someone was after the cows."

  "I guess you've got the straight of it," the foreman said. "Mebbe that dead hoss'll tell us somethin' in the mornin'."

  But this hope proved futile; on the left hip of the animal a square patch of skin had been stripped off. The marauders had not overlooked any bets, as they believed.

  Chapter IX

  Yorky was the proudest member of the outfit. Not only had he eclipsed them all by partnering the peerless Miss Trenton, but promotion had come to him.

  "That kid was the on'y one of us to notice that them Wagon-wheel outcasts had sneaked away from the show," Dan told his foreman. "He goes on the pay-roll at twenty a month, an' it's up to him to make it more."

  To the surprise of the bunkhouse, the usually precocious youth accepted his good fortune modestly. "It's mighty good o' Dan," he said. "I ain't wort' a dime to him, but I'm aimin' ter be."

  "That rich uncle--" Slow began.

  "Aw, go an' fry snowballs," Yorky grinned.

  "Honest, I'm glad, Yorky," Blister put in. "I was scared we'd lose you as well as Tiny."

  "Lose me?" the boy queried. "An' where's Tiny goin'?"

  "Well, I figured las' night you'd soon be ridin' for the Wagon-wheel," was the reply. "An' Tiny's fixed to marry the school-marm an' help lam the kids."

  The big puncher addressed the company. "Blister ain't a natural liar; it's just that his tongue gits ahead o' his thoughts."

  When Yorky appeared for the morning excursion, Sudden noticed, with inward satisfaction, a coiled lasso hanging from his saddle-horn.

  "Ain't proposin' to hang yoreself, are yu, son?" he asked. The boy was used to his friend's sardonic humour. "Naw,"

  he replied. "Guessed yer might larn me to t'row it. C'n yer rope?"

  "Well, I'm not as good as some, but I expect I can give yu some pointers," the puncher admitted.

  When they reached the pool, and had enjoyed their swim, Yorky was instructed in the rudiments of roping, which he found to be a much more difficult art than he had imagined. Also, he was treated to an expert exhibition which caused his eyes to bulge, and filled him with an ambition to do the like. In the puncher's hands, the lariat seemed to become a live thing, obeying every twitch of the deft wrist.

  "Gawd, I'd give a lot ter handle a rope like that," Yorky said admiringly.

  "Yu'll have to--a lot o' time," Sudden told him. "Practice, son, just practice, an' a leetle savvy--that's all yu need." As the teacher was preparing to leave, the pupil asked, "What will a gun cost me, Jim?"

  "Probably yore life," was the grim reply. "Yu got enough to keep yu busy with ropin', hawg-tyin', an' learnin' to ride somethin' a bit more uncertain than Shut-eye yonder."

  "I ureter carry a gat."

  "The devil yu did? An' what was yore other name--Bill Hickok?"

  "Oh, I ain't no sharp-shooter, but I was in with a hard bunch," Yorky replied airily. "I knows which end of a gun th' trouble comes out of."

  "It's the trouble that comes outa the other fella's yu gotta keep in mind," Sudden warned. "Yu leave shootin' be for a spell; get a grip o' them other things first."

  And because of his faith in this man who had done so much for him, Yorky pushed into the background his most cherished ambition, and contentedly applied himself to the task of mastering his lariat. As Sudden had hoped, the fresh, bracing air, new interests, and the revival of hope, were working wonders, and "li'l of Noo York" was fast becoming a less glamorous memory.

  It was some days later that Yorky went in search of adventure, and found it. He had not yet been raised to the dignity of being assigned a definite job, and time was more or less his own. He knew nothing of the country round, and determined to find out something about it. Particularly he wanted to seethe Wagon-wheel ranch-house, perhaps cherishing a hope of getting a glimpse of the girl who had been kind to him at the dance--kindness, until he had come West, was a rare experience. So, when Sudden had left him, he set out. Casual questions in the bunkhouse had given him the route.

  "Foller th' creek, ford her at th' white stone, an' bear right," he repeated. "Sounds dead easy, Shut-eye, but we gotta watch out--them Wagon-wheelers is mebbe feelin' sore."

  Like the rest of the outfit, Yorky believed that a raid on the cattle had been attempted. Paddy had been sworn to silence, explaining the bump on his cranium by an invented fall over a chair in the dark, a solution which evoked ribald reflections on his sobriety.

  He crossed the stream, and then headed north-east over an expanse of grass-land plentifully besprinkled with brush, which enabled him to keep under cover for the most part. The necessity for this was soon apparent, for he had gone less than a mile when a horseman swung into an aisle he was about to enter. Just in time he forced Shut-eye headlong into a thicket of thorn--to the discomfort of both of them--and waited while the rider went by.

  "Flint!" the boy breathed. "That's onct I'm lucky."

  When the man disappeared he resumed his journey, and presently, in the distance, saw what he knew must be the place he sought. The ground about it was too open to conceal a horseman, so he hid his mount in a clump of brush, dropping the reins over its head as Sudden had told him, and advanced on foot, keeping to the right, stooping and running swiftly from one bush to another.

  He had got within a hundred yards of the house when two men emerged and, to his dismay, walked directly towards the tree behind which he was hiding. He looked round, but there was no cover he could hope to reach without being seen. His eyes went upward; the tree was a cottonwood, thickly foliaged. With a bound he managed to grasp the lowest branch and, panting with the unusual exertion, climbed to the crotch above. Since he could only see below through one small opening, he judged he was safe so long as he stayed quiet.

  "If I bar
k, I'm a goner," he murmured, and instantly a violent desire to do this very thing assailed him. Smothering it, he bent down to listen, for they had stopped beneath him. Garstone opened the conversation.

  "Well, Bundy, why have you brought me out here?"

  "Because it's quiet, an' to ask you one plain question: Are you at the Wagon-wheel to help Trenton, or to help yoreself?"

  "What the hell do you mean? How dare you-- "Easy, Mister Garstone," the foreman cut in. "Puttin' on frills ain't apt to pay in these parts where "one man is as good as another, 'cept with a six-shooter. Now mebbe yo're fast with a gun--I don't know--but I'm tellin' you that I am--damned fast."

  "Are you trying to pick a quarrel with me?" Garstone asked.

  "No, I want you to talk to me as man to man, an' not as a boss to a dawg who works for him," Bundy returned sourly.

  "I am here to help Trenton, and in doing so, I hope for some advantage to myself. Does that satisfy you?"

  "It's a law-sharp's answer. I'll put it plainer: are you prepared to sit in at a game what'll help you, but not Trenton?" Yorky, easing a cramped leg, made a slight rustling. Apparently the foreman must have glanced up, for the trembling boy heard Garstone say, "Birds," and add with a laugh, "Hope they don't forget their manners." After a moment's pause, he answered the question. "It would depend, of course, on what the game meant--to me."

  "Half the Circle Dot, or around twenty-five thousand bucks, as we might decide," Bundy said coolly.

  "You may deal me a hand," the big man replied. "If I like the cards, I'll play; if not, I'll keep my mouth shut."

  "Good enough. Well, here's the layout; with forty thousand we could buy the Circle Dot an' run it ourselves, or sell it to Zeb for fifty thousand."

  "Marvellous! Not suggested by our talk with Trenton, of course." His tone betrayed disgust and disappointment.

  "All that jaw suggested to me was that we'd be fools to help another fella to a wad o' coin we could have ourselves," Bundy replied.

  "And, of course, you know where to find the money?"

  The foreman was losing his patience. "The mistake you make, Garstone, is to think eveyone else a blasted fool," he said. "Shore I know; what'd be the sense in talkin' if I didn't?"